You, me, and the wall
by tree979
Summary: Against Guerrero's advice, Junior uses himself as bait in a nightclub to get close to a target. When the plan goes awry, Guerrero steps in to pull him out, and Junior is pissed. Junior and Guerrero Slash. For mature eyes only.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing and I make no money from this. I mean no disrespect to the awesome actors who play Junior (Chance) and Guerrero.**

**Author's note: I don't have the time to write as much HT fic as I used to, but this one just wouldn't leave me alone!**

* * *

"Dude, this plan really sucks."

"I didn't know you were such a prude, Guerrero."

He shrugged. "I'm not."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There's got to be five hundred people in that club, maybe more. That's a hell of a lot of witnesses, Junior."

"Look, this is the only place Governor ever leaves his escort at the door. All I have to do is lure him into a dark corner, slip the pill in his drink and we're done. In and out. No muss, no fuss."

"Just like that?"

"We already know I'm his type: young, blond, athletic."

"Cocky."

Junior grinned. "Yeah, that too."

Guerrero sighed. It wasn't a completely unworkable plan; Junior was the perfect bait, but if anything he was a bit too perfect; as soon as he walked into that club he was likely to turn heads. Their target never showed up before midnight, at which time the drink and drugs had been flowing long enough that dancing wasn't the only thing getting the nightclub's clientele all hot and sweaty. The club was notorious for its numerous dark hallways and secluded corners, which provided plenty of opportunities for the kind of anonymous sexual encounters closeted men like their target craved. Sending Junior in there alone felt like throwing him into a feeding frenzy in chummed waters and hoping that the right shark bit him.

"Fine. We'll do it your way, but I'll be watching you. I don't want to have to explain to the Old Man why you got roofied."

"I'm not even going to drink, so there's little chance of that."

"If the target is that careful, you might need a plan B."

"I've got it covered, Guerrero. Quit fussing."

The doorman predictably waved Junior through without hesitation but he was more wary of Guerrero until Junior insisted they were together. Junior looked every bit the ideal customer, all wide eyes and toothy smile, his tan set off nicely by his skin tight jeans and sleeveless black t-shirt showing off his well-muscled arms; whereas Guerrero skulked behind him, a forgettable shadow in Junior's wake. It suited his purpose to be unremarkable, but the doorman's reluctance to admit him still rankled.

Like in most social situations, Junior had no problem fitting in, but Guerrero was still surprised to see that he was more than holding his own on the dance floor. He watched him from the bar as he moved through the crowd. To a casual observer it would appear as if Junior was just another slightly intoxicated dancer, notable only for the number of admiring glances he drew, ranging from speculative to outright predatory; but Guerrero could see the method in the way he moved, flirty enough not to seem aloof but still observing everything carefully, searching the faces amongst the heaving crowd for his target.

Junior seemed at home, but it was always difficult to look past his chameleon-like ability to fit in to see what was real and what was an act. It was a gift, being able to be whatever people needed or expected to see, and although Guerrero was better than most at being able to see through the deception, he suspected that on some level Junior was genuinely enjoying himself. It wasn't that surprising considering the emphasis Joubert put on discipline, leaving Junior little personal freedom to go out and socialise, and maybe the illusion of being able to cut loose for a while was enough to satisfy him.

After half an hour or so of watching Junior work the floor, getting hit on by a succession of hopeful and sometimes pushy suitors, Guerrero was losing his patience. There was no sign of the target, and the press of too many sweaty bodies in a confined and poorly ventilated area meant that people were constantly pushing past him, invading his personal space and taking up more than their fair share of breathable air. He hated nightclubs with a passion normally reserved for those foolish enough to try to rip him off, but considering the exorbitant amount of money he'd had to hand over in exchange for a flat, room temperature beer, maybe the two things weren't all that different. At least no one was trying to talk to him; his dead-eyed glare was enough to make even the enthusiastic of potential conversationalists think twice and keep moving.

Guerrero knew he should've tried harder to talk Junior out of his plan, but given the target's exceptionally thorough security detail he was hard pushed to come up with an alternative that met the client's brief at such short notice. The pill that Junior had concealed in a small pendant around his neck would induce a heart attack that would be indistinguishable from natural causes at autopsy, and the scandal of the married, middle-aged Governor dropping dead in the middle of a gay pick-up joint would wreak havoc amongst his right-wing supporters.

But he couldn't leave Junior dangling as bait indefinitely, and although he didn't seem to have a problem with all the attention he was receiving, it went against everything Guerrero had tried to drill into him about keeping a low profile. Bile was beginning to rise in his throat as yet another hand groped Junior's ass, the owner of said hand leaning in to say something that made Junior shake his head and politely but firmly move out of his reach.

How could he stand it? All those people touching him, screaming for his attention and grinding up against him… how could he even concentrate on the job at hand? Reasoning that the situation just wasn't practical, he decided it was time to pull the plug and evaluate other options. He was about to brave the dance floor to drag Junior away, by force if necessary, when he saw that somehow the target had managed to slip past him unnoticed, and despite what their intel had suggested, he wasn't alone. He kept to the shadows at the edge of the dance floor, accompanied by a heavy set man who was clearly a bodyguard, even though the guy had made some attempt to blend in, ditching the normal dark suit for jeans and a casual shirt.

Junior saw them too, and was making a beeline for them despite the fact that the presence of a bodyguard was clearly a game changer. Guerrero swore when he realised that Junior was going to go ahead with his plan. Junior could flirt his way past the target's defences but a trained bodyguard would not be so easy fool at close quarters. Even if he did manage to administer the drug unseen, there would be a credible witness to identify Junior and drag him into the initial investigation that would kick off before the autopsy ruled the death due to natural causes. Combined with the target's high profile, and the scandal of him dropping dead at a gay nightspot, there was a good chance that Junior's face would be all over the news reports as soon as the press got wind of the story.

Guerrero abandoned the remains of the beer he'd been nursing all night and shoved his way through the throng of people, trying to intercept Junior before he reached his goal. It was like trying to run through treacle; noisy, stubborn, sentient treacle that seemed to be deliberately getting in his way. He managed to lock eyes with Junior for a second, shaking his head to warn him to stand down, but Junior grinned back, all cocksure and determined to prove that he was up to the challenge. Guerrero felt a surge of anger, first with Junior for ignoring his warning, and with himself for letting his stupid plan get this far.

Junior had already caught the target's attention, directing his million watt smile in his direction. Guerrero abandoned any attempt at discretion and shoved people roughly out of his way until he managed to grab hold of Junior's arm just as the Governor beckoned him over.

"It's not worth the risk!" he hissed in his ear. "You've attracted too much attention already!"

"I can handle it!"

"No, you can't. Not if you want to get away clean!"

"I can do it, and it's my assignment, so it's my call."

"Junior-"

"Back off!"

Junior twisted his arm free, playing up to the man watching him, and rolling his eyes in a way that said "what can you do?", and the Governor responded with a laugh and beckoned him over again.

Junior had always been stubborn, but what he was doing now was just plain stupid. All the people he'd been dancing with were watching with interest to see who had finally caught the hot blond guy's eye, and being the focus of so many people's attention completely undermined Junior's strategy. People hadn't just noticed him, they were actively interested in what he was doing. Even if he lured the target into a dark corner, it wouldn't make any difference when a whole pool of witnesses could verify that they'd been seen together. Completing the hit successfully was no longer the priority; Guerrero would have to extract Junior against his will, and do it in a way that wouldn't involve in-house security, or worse the cops.

Junior was already toying with the pendant around his neck, shooting sly glances through his eyelashes as he made his way towards the target, and the loud electro-pop that had been playing all night was replaced by a slower, bluesy number, as if the DJ was somehow conspiring to assist in the seduction. There was no way to derail his plan now without causing a scene, so fuck it, Guerrero would give them a scene that Junior couldn't wriggle his way out of. He followed Junior to the edge of the dance floor but hung back and watched until he was sure Junior had palmed the pill from his pendant and was waiting for the opportunity to drop it into the bottle dangling precariously from the Governor's fingers. As soon as the man moved his hand to the small of Junior's back, giving a clear indication that he was making a move on him, Guerrero closed in on them and shoved Junior's chest hard with both hands.

"What the fuck, dude?" he yelled, his voice carrying well over the more subdued music. He pushed Junior again for the sake of anyone who missed the first one. "You really gonna do this to me?"

Junior's mouth fell open, forming a gratifying O of surprise.

"Is there a problem?" the bodyguard asked, stepping forward to place himself between his startled client and Guerrero.

"Yeah, there's a fucking problem," Guerrero snarled.

"I don't know what you're-" Junior stuttered into silence as Guerrero gave him a hard, open handed slap across the face, a move that was intended to shut him up rather than do any real harm. He went to hit him again but the bodyguard stepped in to break it up and in the resulting scuffle Guerrero managed to make sure that Junior had dropped the pill.

Junior's face was flushed, but the imprint of Guerrero's hand where he'd slapped him stood out as a livid red mark. The look of outraged disbelief shifted into blistering anger as he realised that Guerrero wasn't just questioning his ability to get the job done, he really believed Junior was in over his head and didn't know it.

"You do not get to control me!" Junior shouted, shoving the bodyguard out of the way. "That's not how this works!"

"And you don't get to ignore me!" Guerrero yelled back.

They were really starting to draw the attention of the crowd now, who seemed to think all the drama was the result of a jealous lover catching Junior hooking up with another man. The last thing the Governor wanted was to be embroiled in a very public lover's tiff, so he decided to cut his losses and slip away whilst everyone was focused on Guerrero and Junior yelling at each other.

Guerrero wasn't going to let him sneak away into the shadows unscathed though, he wanted to make sure that he left the club altogether. "And you can fuck right off!" he yelled at his retreating back. "Go find some other crotch to sniff before you climb back into the closet!"

The Governor and his bodyguard fled, and Guerrero had the audience in the palm of his hand now; all he had to do was to make Junior admit defeat, then he could get them out of the damn club and beat some sense into him in private. The weight of so many eyes watching him was making his skin crawl but he needed to give the whole farcical mess some kind of closure. He needed to force a resolution that would mark Junior as off limits to the sympathetic opportunists he felt were poised to descend on him the second he turned his back, making a clean exit impossible.

"Why couldn't you just trust me?" Junior asked, his shoulders sagging a little as he realised that there was no way for him to complete his assignment.

A snicker ran through the crowd as the answer seemed pretty obvious, and someone called out "busted!"

"'Cause I'm looking out for you, whether you want me to or not."

That provoked a chorus of ahs and Junior frowned, as if he didn't get what was causing that reaction. Concerned that he was about to open his mouth and say something that would blow the whole charade, Guerrero grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a clumsy kiss.

Junior's body went rigid, so Guerrero backed off just enough to mutter: "Just work with me here. You want them to see a couple making up after a fight, or do you want me to drag you kicking and screaming out of here and explain to the Old Man why they had to call the cops to stop me giving you the ass kicking you so richly deserve?"

At the mention of the Old Man, Junior finally seemed to catch on to what Guerrero was trying to do. He relaxed a little and slipped his arms around Guerrero's waist.

Guerrero released his hold on Junior's shirt and moved his hands up to cup his face instead and pulled him into another kiss, slowly and more deliberately than the first time. It could have been in the interests of authenticity, but Guerrero suspected it was just Junior trying to fuck with his head when he brushed his tongue over his lips. He figured it was a subtle 'fuck you', a private act of defiance intended to freak him out and get him to back off, but Guerrero wasn't falling for it. If Junior wanted to fight dirty, fine, Guerrero was the fucking king of fighting dirty. He was in control of the situation now and if Junior thought that a pathetic attempt to provoke homophobic panic was going to give him the upper hand, Guerrero would prove otherwise.

He slid one hand round the back of Junior's head, gripping his fingers in his hair hard enough to hurt, and bit down on his lower lip. Junior made a startled noise, his fingers twisting in the fabric of Guerrero's shirt at the small of his back, but Guerrero was already sliding his tongue over the teeth marks and into Junior's mouth.

Junior's hands clawing at his back seemed to hit a nerve that lead straight to his balls, but any arousal Guerrero was feeling was secondary to his anger and the need show Junior who was calling the shots. There was nothing gentle or tender in the way he was invading Junior's mouth, it was an act of pure dominance, so it took Guerrero a while to realise that Junior had stopped fighting it. His body was free of any tension, almost relaxing against Guerrero, letting him do whatever he wanted.

It should have felt like victory, but instead Guerrero was suddenly very aware that he was kissing Junior in the middle of a club full of people and starting to get aroused in the process. As he began to pull away he felt Junior's tongue swipe softly at his lips again, making him question whether he'd really won or not. Junior let out a soft sigh as he stepped back, and Guerrero couldn't help looking at his flushed, slightly swollen lips and thinking: _Christ, I did that…_

"I think that's done it," he said, the words coming out sounding strangely hoarse. "Show's over. We can probably leave now without getting swamped by your adoring public."

Junior looked around and it did seem that interest had significantly waned now they'd apparently kissed and made up.

"You done now, or do you want to finish marking your territory by pissing on my leg?"

Guerrero pushed him away. "I just saved your ass, so you can keep your witty comments to yourself. You should have backed away when I told you to."

"It was my call, Guerrero. I still think I could have made it work. What I'm more interested in is why you felt the need to play the jealous boyfriend."

"It fit the situation," Guerrero shrugged.

"Really," Chance drawled. "So why not just storm out after the target left?"

Guerrero frowned. Why hadn't he? So Junior might have had to fend off a few more unwanted advances, it was no big deal. Junior could have handled it; hell, he had been handling it all night just fine. It wasn't a question he wanted to think about.

"Whatever. I'm leaving now. Stay and party with your new friends if that's really what you want."

Guerrero's ability to make a quick exit was seriously hampered by the sheer number of people he had to navigate around to get back to the door, but he kept his head down and didn't bother to check if Junior was following him. He was making infuriatingly slow progress through the crowd, and ground to a halt completely when he found he was caught in the chaos where the people waiting to get served at the bar merged with the line for the coat check. The only way to get past was to double back and approach from the other side, which he started to do, cursing under his breath when he turned round and walked straight into Junior.

"I think there's another exit," Junior said. "I saw some people going out for a smoke." He pointed towards a doorway by the sign for the bathrooms.

Reasoning that if nothing else it looked far less crowded in that direction, Guerrero nodded and followed him. The doorway opened onto a hallway with the bathrooms and a couple of doors marked private at one end and a fire exit at the other, which was guarded by a doorman who was stamping the hands of anyone going out for a smoke.

"No re-admission without a stamp," he said, already reaching for Junior's hand.

"We're done for the night, thanks anyway," Junior replied quickly, before Guerrero had the chance to tell the guy where to stick his stamp.

Walking out into the chill night air was like stepping from a sauna straight into an icebox, but Guerrero was sure that keeping warm wasn't what was motivating the two men wrapped around each other in the alleyway whilst a third man looking on, smoking a cigarette.

"Are we going to talk about what just happened?" Junior asked, falling into step with Guerrero as he headed back to the car.

"You fucked up. I got you out of there. What's to discuss?"

They walked on in silence for a while. Their rental car was parked several blocks away, far enough away to avoid the police and the ambulance that would have shown up if the hit had been successful.

"I thought it might be a homophobia thing," Junior said, "Why you didn't like my plan, I mean."

"Have I ever given you reason to believe that I'm a bigot?"

"No, but-"

"Any plan that involves you systematically flirting your way through an entire club full of people is a fundamentally stupid plan. Using yourself as bait in a controlled situation is one thing, but that? That was a fucking mess from the start."

"In hindsight, maybe…"

Guerrero stopped and glared at him. "Maybe?"

"Alright, I know I fucked up, okay? I knew it was risky but I decided to try anyway 'cause you were stuck in a noisy, crowded nightclub, which I know you hate, and I didn't want it to be for nothing, and-"

"Wait, you were going to go ahead with it just so I hadn't been stuck in there for no reason?" Of all the stupid excuses Junior might have come up with, that one hadn't even crossed his mind.

"Yeah, that sounds kinda stupid now I say it out loud, but that's not the point."

"I think it is, bro."

"No, the point is you were jealous!"

In the privacy of his own mind Guerrero could admit that he was a little jealous of the way that Junior could connect with people as easily as looking at them, but he knew that wasn't what he meant. He shook his head and started waking again. "I'm not having this conversation."

"What you did back there, the way you-"

"It was just an act. Get over it."

"Was it though?"

"Dude! I said get over it already!"

Yeah, so he'd felt a bit territorial when Junior was getting groped on the dance floor, but only because Junior was his responsibility. It didn't have to actually mean anything. Besides, he was pissed at being shoved and jostled by all the people in the club, so it was natural that he projected some of those frustrations onto Junior being fondled by strangers who had no fucking right to touch him…

"So you wouldn't have a problem if I went back to the club and hooked up with someone then?"

Guerrero had his hand round Junior's throat, pinning him against the wall before he even knew what he was doing. Junior didn't even struggle. He just stared at him with those clear blue eyes as if Guerrero wasn't just one good squeeze away from choking the life out of him. Habit and the instinct for self-preservation made Guerrero look around to check that they weren't being watched, but they were alone, without so much as a security camera trained on the empty side street.

"I think I just proved my point," Junior gasped.

Guerrero slackened his grip a little, just enough that Junior could breathe properly.

"I'm not…" Guerrero stopped, and his thoughts slipped away from him as he tried to figure out how to finish that sentence honestly, and why he couldn't just fire off a bullshit answer to shut Junior up. The only coherent thought his mind would offer him was: _I can still taste him…_

"There were other ways you could've pulled me outta there, but you wanted everyone in that club to know I was off-limits, that I was there with you and no one else."

Guerrero tried to pull his hand away but Junior grabbed his wrist to stop him, holding his hand in place. Guerrero's eyes widened as Junior brought up his other hand and smoothed it carefully up his forearm, stroking it in a way that was unmistakably a caress.

"You wanted me to know that I was-"

Guerrero abandoned his futile attempts to rationalise what he was feeling and just went with it, pressing his mouth against Junior's, cutting him off mid-sentence. It was nothing like the kisses in the nightclub. It was definitely a two way street now, Junior giving as good as he got, pulling Guerrero in towards him and pushing one leg between his thighs and grinding against his hip until they were both hard and breathless.

Guerrero wasn't sure at what point his hands had migrated down to grip Junior's ass, but he knew he wanted to feel naked flesh beneath his fingers, to claim what those assholes in the nightclub had no right to touch.

"Property of Guerrero, huh?" Junior smiled, half laughing, half panting as Guerrero pushed his hands down the back of his pants.

"Right now, I don't know if I want to fuck you or kill you," Guerrero moaned, pressing his face into the side of his neck and breathing in shuddering lungfuls of Junior's scent.

Junior grinned and started tugging at Guerrero's belt, undoing it before moving on to unbutton his fly. "Well, I kinda have a preference, if it's all the same to you." He raised his eyebrows when he realised Guerrero wasn't wearing underwear but Guerrero was too busy sucking and licking at his neck to notice. He groaned as Junior's hand closed around his dick, stroking him too slowly to do anything but tease him with the promise of relief.

"I could feel you watching me in there. I knew you were pissed but I didn't get why."

"They wouldn't stop fucking touching you, and you just let them do it, over and over again…"

"I didn't know, Guerrero. I didn't know…"

Guerrero turned his head, seeking Junior's mouth and kissing him again, showing him what he wasn't ready to put into words. _You're mine. Only I get this, just me, no one else._

Junior's hand tightened a little, working his cock a little faster, and Guerrero fumbled at his jeans with the intention of returning the favour, but Junior reached into his pocket and tried to press something into his hand. He looked down and saw it was a condom and a sachet of lubricant.

Guerrero raised his eyebrows. "You just happened to have this on you?"

Junior looked away, avoiding his eyes. "I wasn't sure if I'd have to… to get the job done, I didn't know how far things might have to go…"

"Christ! You were gonna let him fuck you?"

"Not if I could help it, but…" Junior shrugged.

"I never would've let that happen, Junior. Not for a job, and not if my fucking life depended on it! You get that?"

"Yeah, I get that," he said softly.

"Jesus! What were you thinking?" he murmured. "There's reckless, and there's out of your mind crazy, and then there's you."

"Yeah, well that's why I need you watching my ass, with the option to, y'know, fuck-"

Kissing him seemed the only viable way of shutting him up, and really, Guerrero didn't have a problem with that. Somehow he managed to wrench Junior's jeans open one handed whilst the other slipped under his t-shirt, splayed out against Junior's back. Just the feel of his bare skin beneath his hand was driving him out of his mind, and he was shoving Junior's pants and underwear out of the way just so he could feel his naked ass in his hands.

Chance broke away from the kiss and braced his hands, one of which still held the condom and lube, against Guerrero's chest. "Please tell me this means you're gonna fuck me. 'Cause if I have to pay to get back in the club…"

"Fuck, you just don't know when to shut up, do you?" Guerrero grumbled, snatching the lube out of Junior's hand and turning him around to face the wall.

Junior raised his forearms up to cushion his head against the wall in a way that he had to know showed off the muscles of his arms and shoulders. He turned his head to look back at Guerrero and flashed him a grin. "Not when it gets me what I want, no."

As Guerrero tore into the packet of lube, he had a brief moment of clarity when he realised that what they were doing was insane. If Joubert ever found out he would kill him, no question, and since when had Guerrero been interested in fucking men anyway? _Since you chose to stick your tongue in Junior's mouth and you found that you liked it,_ his brain helpfully supplied.

Figuring he was screwed already anyway, the moment passed and he turned his attention back to Junior. He wrapped one arm round his waist whilst he ran his slicked up fingers down the cleft of his ass, feeling Junior's chest expand and contract as he let out a breathy sigh. He'd obviously done this before, judging by the way his body didn't fight the invasion as Guerrero worked his fingers inside him, and that thought hit him like a punch to the gut. He pressed his face against Junior's back and focussed on gently stretching him, aware of the mechanics of gay sex even if he'd never put them in to practice before. Anal sex couldn't be that much different with a man than it was with a woman, and he knew the key was all in the preparation. Junior gasped as he introduced a third finger, and Guerrero froze, worried that he'd rushed it and hurt him.

"Sorry. I'll slow down."

"No, don't! That was fucking perfect…"

Guerrero smiled as he realised he must have found Junior's prostate, something he'd never had to take into consideration before. He twisted and curled his fingers, experimenting until he knew the exact location of the spot that made Junior moan and twitch.

"You ready?" Guerrero asked.

"Any more ready and I'd be making a mess of this wall…" he moaned.

Guerrero took the condom from Junior's sweaty hand and rolled it on in record time, slicking himself up with the last of the lube, and then he had his arm wrapped around Junior's waist again as he guided himself in.

"Fuck," he groaned as he bottomed out, his hands shaking a little as he grasped Junior's hips to hold him still as he tried to remember how to breathe. "Gimmee a second," he grasped when Junior shifted his stance slightly, somehow taking him even deeper.

The only sound he could hear was his own thundering heartbeat and Junior's ragged breathing coming in shallow gasps, so he focused on that until he was sure he could move without losing it. He nearly lost his composure when Junior apparently couldn't wait any longer and said his name, sounding so incredibly wrecked that Guerrero had to bite down hard on his lip to distract himself.

Junior rolled his hips and pushed back against him, and Guerrero's last frayed thread of self-control snapped as the world shrank down to nothing but the places where their bodies intersected. Junior was murmuring a constant, filthy stream of encouragement, but Guerrero let the words wash over him, responding only to the subtle reactions from Junior's body that signalled he was hitting that sweet spot again and again.

He was too lost in the sensation of thrusting deep inside Junior's body, fingers clenched and digging into his hips, to acknowledge the slew of emotions that was running through him, but in its simplest form it all meant: _mine… you're mine now._

He could feel his climax building at the base of his spine, like the sudden change of air pressure that warns of an impending electrical storm. He moaned and quickened his rhythm, unable to prolong the inevitable. "Touch yourself, Junior," he growled. "I wanna see you fucking paint that wall…"

Junior barely managed to get one hand to his cock before he came, Guerrero's gruff command doing more for him than anything he could do for himself. He cried out as the spasms ripped through him in wave after wave of pleasure, releasing the storm inside Guerrero, who moaned and managed a few last jerky thrusts until he too was spent, slumped against Junior's back and drawing deep shuddering breaths.

Every time Guerrero breathed in he got more of Junior's scent: sweat and sex and a hint of his cologne. It made him feel drugged and hopelessly addicted, but as long as he was breathing it in, the moment was still real and Junior was his. He would have to let go, to step away and resume being who they really were, but not yet, not while he could still stand there, pressed against Junior, wrapping his arms round his waist and just holding him close.

Junior broke the silence with a shaky "hey." When he didn't get a response, he tried again. "Hey, Guerrero, you okay?"

Since talking meant the end of the fragile afterglow, Guerrero carefully withdrew, holding the condom in place as a shiver rippled through Junior's body. "Yeah, I'm good," he muttered, knotting the condom and tossing it down a nearby drain, before doing up his jeans and belt as he avoided looking Junior in the eye.

He waited as Junior straightened out his own clothes, wondering what the fuck he'd done and what he was supposed to do now. If Joubert ever found out…

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you," Junior said.

Nausea gripped Guerrero's stomach. "Is that what that was?" he asked. "An apology?"

"What? No!" Junior said, putting his hand on Guerrero's shoulder, making him turn and face him. "That was just you and me." He tilted his head to one side and smiled. "And technically, the wall too."

Guerrero studied his face for a moment, looking for evidence of deception but not finding it. He sighed. "Joubert can never find out."

Junior smiled and stepped closer, his other hand settling comfortably at the nape of Guerrero's neck. "We'll be careful."

Guerrero blinked a couple of times as that sunk in. Was he really implying that this wasn't a one off?

"Careful, huh?"

"Yeah," Junior sighed, leaning in and brushing his lips against Guerrero's in a gentle kiss.

"I guess we can do that," Guerrero smiled, settling his arms around him just because he could. "But if you ever set foot in that club again…"

Junior laughed. "Not gonna happen."

Guerrero nodded.

"What are we going to tell Joubert, about the hit?"

"Tell him the truth," Guerrero shrugged. "Security was too tight and we had to call it off. No matter what you plan, sometimes things just don't turn out the way you think they will."

Junior grinned, "And sometimes you end up with something even better."


End file.
